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CHICAGO. 

The  Forward  Movement  Publishing  Co. 

1896. 


HBRAHY 

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UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


813 


3 


DEDICATION. 

This  little  book  is  dedicated  by  the  author  to  The  For- 
ward Movement,  as  representative  of  the  new  spirit  man- 
ifested in  the  uplift  of  humauity  by  the  helpful  association 
and  close  touch  of  consecrated  lives. 

The  social  movement  indicated  by  the  various  settlements, 
of  which  this  is  a type,  is  the  characteristic  Christ-like  feature 
of  this  generation. 

The  influence  coming  from  this  work,  and  the  added 
suggestions  of  the  teaching  of  co-operation,  which  is  the 
essential  spirit  of  this  work,  are  encouraging  proofs  that 
just  before  us  is  the  dawn  of  a new  day. 

All  profits  arising  from  the  sale  of  this  book,  are  sacredly 
dedicated  to  The  Forward  Movement. 

CHARLES  O.  BORING. 

< hicago,  November  13, 1896. 


a— 


815298 


Copyrighted 
By  the  Author. 


A Christmas  Mystery. 


r NEVER  knew  why  I was  belated  on  that  even- 
ing. It  was  already  dark,  and  the  electric  lights, 
gleaming  from  the  street  corners,  lit  up  the  faces 
of  those  passing  along,  and  I saw,  from  all  the 
signs;  that  this  was  an  unusual  evening.  Nearly 
every  one  bore  bundles  of  some  sort,  on  all  the  faces 
was  a glow  of  expectancy,  and  from  these  evidences 
I knew  that  this  was  Christmas  eve. 

Passing  in  deep  meditation,  I was  thinking  what 
this  day  meant  to  me.  It  had  always  been  a marvel- 
ous day  in  the  history  of  my  life,  and  more  than  once 
I had  received,  on  this  anniversary,  some  new  and 
wonderful  revelation. 


2 


Filled  with  these  thoughts,  as  I suddenly  turned  a 
corner,  I saw  before  me  a scene  of  glorious  splen- 
dor. There,  rising  majestically  into  the  air,  was  an 
edifice,  which  was  indeed,  like  a dream.  It  was  a 
miracle  of  brightness,  there  did  not  seem  to  be  a 
shadow  about  it.  The  light  came  from  within,  from 
without,  from  above,  from  beneath.  It  glowed  like 
a corruscation,  or  rather,  as  if  it  were  a living,  lumin- 
ous being.  Was  the  Taj  Mahal,  Pearl  of  India,  mag- 
nified and  glorified,  transported  by  some  miracle  to 
this  place? 

What  was  the  material  of  which  this  was  builded? 
Its  surface,  where  not  luminous  from  within,  seemed 
of  some  brilliant,  white  metal,  which  might  be  alum- 
inum if  such  were  possible. 

Just  before  me  was  a splendid  portal.  Over  that 
portal,  in  darkened  characters  against  the  bright, 
white  light,  I read  these  words:  I Am  Come  That 

Ye  Might  Have  Life.  Above  this  inscription 
was  a figure  moulded  or  carved  from  some  translu- 
cent substance.  The  light  gleamed  through  the  gold- 
en hair,  it  shone  out  of  the  blue  eyes  and  through 
the  light  drapery,  as  though  this  were  indeed  a living 
person,  so  strangely  life-like  did  it  appear.  The  arms 
were  outstretched,  and  in  the  face  looking  down  upon 
those  beneath,  I saw  the  face  of  my  Redeemer. 


3 


As  I stood  gazing  in  bewilderment,  at  this  marvel- 
ous structure,  I could  not  help  saying  to  myself:  “I 
never  saw  this  before!  how  strange,  I never  saw  this 
before!” 

A young  man  was  standing  by  my  side,  looking 
upon  the  throng  of  people  pressing  into  the  portal 
and  gathered  about  the  promenade  around  this  great 
edifice.  As  he  heard  these  words  from  my  lips  he 
turned  and  said  to  me:  “Why  do  you  say  that  it  is 

strange  you  have  never  seen  this  before?” 

I replied:  “Nearly  all  my  life  has  been  passed  in 
this  city.  I have  been  a constant  observer  of  all 
events  of  importance,  and  yet  I have  never  seen  this 
building,  neither  have  I ever  heard  a word  about  it.”, 

“How  long  have  you  been  living  here?’  said  he. 

“I  have  lived  in  or  about  Chicago  more  than  thirty 
years.” 

“Your  statement  is  unaccountable,”  the  young  man 
said,  “I  have  been  acquainted  with  this  building  all 
my  life,  and  I did  not  know  that  there  was  any  one, 
in  all  the  world — much  less  in  Chicago — who  did  not 
know  of  its  existance.” 

“What  is  the  building?”  I asked,  “what  is  the  pur- 
pose of  it;  what  do  they  call  it” 

“I  should  think,”  he  said,  “you  would  at  once  see 


4 


what  it  is.  Notice  the  stained  windows,  with  the 
pictures  limned  upon  them?  Observe  these  groups  of 
statues,  one  above  the  other  to  the  very  top-most 
height  of  the  building!” 

“Yes”  I replied,  “I  read  in  all  these  tokens  that  old 
familiar  and  beautiful  story  of  the  life  of  our  Savior.” 

“You  are  right,”  said  he,  “and  this  is  the  CHURCH  OF 
THE  REDEEMER.  I am  glad  to  say  there  are  many 
scattered  over  the  world,  and  also  others  in  this  city 
not  like  it  in  architecture,  or  in  beauty,  for  in  these 
respects  it  is  yet  supreme,  but  they  are  similar  in 
spirit,  and  that  after  all  is  the  best  resemblance.” 

“Tell  me,  how  did  this  great  enterprise  come  about? 
Who  originated  it?” 

“1  have  often  heard  my  father  speak  of  it,  and 
know  the  story  well.  No  man  originated  it.  It  was 
the  product  of  the  age,  the  ripened  thought  of  the 
centuries.  This  thought  localized  the  CHURCH  in 
Chicago,  because  of  an  event  in  this  city,  but  it  may 
truly  be  said,  that  all  the  world  participated  in  its 
inauguration,  and  all  the  past  in  its  inception. “ 

“You  remember“  he  continued,  “the  Columbian  Ex- 
position and  the  effect  it  had  upon  Chicago  and  the 
world.  You  also  remember  the  Parliament  of  Relig- 
ions, and  you  know  too  the  marvelous  influence  which 


5 


went  forth  from  this.  This  CHURCH  is  the  sequence 
of  both  of  these  significant  events.” 

“The  business  men  of  Chicago,  who  were  more  than 
mere  men  of  business,  and  who  had  been  moved  out 
of  the  ruts  of  dogmatic  thinking,  by  the  impetus 
given  through  that  initiative,  resolved  that  those  great 
object  lessons  should  not  be  lost.  They  proposed  to 
perpetuate,  in  some  form,  the  thought  which  had 
come  to  the  world,  of  beauty,  of  art,  of  architecture, 
of  spiritual  life,  and  especially,  of  brotherhood.  The 
evolution  of  this  idea  was  first  seen  in  the  lavish 
donations,  to  furnish  means  for  its  construction, 
which  poured  in  without  solicitation  from  everywhere 
and  from  persons  of  all  grades  of  thought  and  relig- 
ious opinions.  When  the  spirit  of  giving  was  started, 
it  seemed  as  if  it  would  never  cease.  That  which 
had  begun  as  a comparitively  small  thing,  grew 
until  the  result  was  the  majestic  Temple  which  you 
see  occupying  yonder  entire  square. 

“There  was  no  thought  of  calling  this  a church,  when 
the  idea  was  first  proposed,  but  when  the  architect 
presented  the  plan,  it  was  seen  that  it  could  be  noth- 
ing else,  and  so  it  was  then  named,  and  has  been 
called  ever  since  The  Church  of  the  Redeemer. 

“Of  what  denomination  is  it?“ 

“Denomination!  What  do  you  mean  by  that  term 


6 


I do  not  understand  it?“ 

“Of  what  sect  is  it?“  I asked. 

“Oh he  replied,  “I  have  heard  my  father  speak  of 
such  things  and  I recollect  what  you  mean.  We  now 
know  nothing  of  what  used  to  be  called  denom- 
inations or  sects,  and  we  can  hardly  realize  that 
any  one  would  use  such  terms.“ 

“What  has  become  of  the  old  churches?  Are  they 
abandoned  or  destroyed?4 

“They  have  been  absorbed?  said  the  young  man, 
“into  many  enterprises.  Some  of  the  buildings  remain 
and  are  in  use,  but  not  many.  They  were  not 

valuable  for  the  new  purposes  and  were  generally 
removed.  The  readjustment  was  brought  about 
gradually  at  first,  but  rapidly  at  the  close? 

“What  has  become  of  the  property  rights  which 
the  statutes  recognized  as  being  vested  in  the  denom- 
inations?4' 

The  young  man  laughed  heartily  and  was  scarcely 
able  to  speak  for  a moment.  Then  he  said, 
“Please  excuse  me,  but  I remember  reading  sometime 
since,  a book  named  ‘The  Ruins  of  God’s  Temples,4 
written  after  the  movement  had  commenced,  by  one 
who  had  not  come  into  this  new  fellowship. 
It  called  attention  to  the  doleful  fact  of  the  abandon- 


7 


ment  of  the  down-town  churches  for  the  Church 
of  the  Redeemer,  and  claimed  because  of  this,  the 
city  was  hopelessly  lost  to  religion  and  to  God.“ 

“Were  these  churches  really  abandoned?“  said  I. 

“In  fact  they  were.  The  properties  were  so  tied  up 
by  the  old  legal  enactments  that  they  could  not  be 
utilized  and  in  consequence  simply  stood  idle  for  a 
time.“ 

“Is  it  so  now?“  I inquired,  for  I was  determined  to 
see  how  this  strange  jest  would  terminate.  I 
fully  realized  that  this  young  man  had  a most  un- 
usual faculty  of  humor,  and  that  he  recognized  me  as 
a proper  victim  for  a joke.  To  encourage  him  however, 
I continued;  “How  did  this  feature  terminate  or  has 
it  indeed  ended?“ 

“Certainly  it  has  ended,  and  the  ending  was  very 
beautiful.“ 

“It  had  been  a principle  long  established,  that 
church  property  should  pay  no  taxes  to  state  or  city. 
This  principle  was  finally  of  the  greatest  service;  for, 
because  of  it,  the  state  finally  claimed  this  abandoned 
property  as  belonging  to  the  people. “ 

“Was  there  not  a good  deal  of  trouble  arising  out 
of  this?“  I replied;  as  I was  now  fully  determined  to 
carry  this  comedy  to  its  close. 


8 


“Far  from  it the  young  man  said.  “The  harmony 
which  came  out  of  the  birth  and  early  develop- 
ment of  the  Church  of  the  Redeemer  fully  pre- 
vented any  such  thought.  When  the  principle  of 
co-operation  which  this  fellowship  taught,  was  es- 
tablished the  result  was  that  rivalries  ceased.  Peo- 
ple began  to  think  together  and  then  to  work 
together  and  the  result  was  that  there  was  no  possi- 
ble cause  for  jealousy  or  rivalry.“ 

I was  becoming  so  confused  that  I hardly  knew 
what  to  say.  The  young  man  appeared  truthful 
and  it  was  evident  one  of  us  was  laboring  under  a. 
great  delusion. 

I now  began  to  notice  the  statuary  upon  the  build- 
ing, and  saw  that  it  was  superior  to  any  I had  ever 
before  observed.  The  young  man  looked  at  me  curi- 
ously, seeing  my  eager  scrutiny,  but  said  nothing. 

“Tell  me,”  said  I;  “how  do  the  people  feel  about 
these  images  so  numerous  upon  this  building?” 

“Truly,”  he  replied,  “you  have  just  touched  upon  a 
point  which  was  in  great  controversy  for  a long  time. 
However,  the  competition  of  the  artists  of  the  world,, 
to  produce  this  great  assemblage  of  statues,  brought 
such  a return  of  the  old  Christ  art,  of  Raphael  and 
Michael  Angelo,  that  it  absolutely  revolutionized 
Christian  sentiment  upon  the  subject.” 


9 


“It  is  strange  to  me  that  such  transformations 
should  come  to  pass  and  that  I should  be  ignorant 
of  them.” 

“Strange,”  the  young  man  said,  “I  cannot  under- 
stand it.  I do  not  know  where  you  could  have  been 
and  not  know  of  this.  There  is  nothing  so  much 
talked  of  in  the  world,  and  to-night,  while  we  are 
standing  here,  they  are  everywhere  reading  of  the 
prepartions  going  on  for  the  festival  which  shall  be 
held  in  this  place,  to  night.” 

I now  began  to  notice  the  great  throng  of  people 
which  seemed  to  come  from  every  direction,  and 
which  was  pouring  in  at  the  open  portal  just  before 
me.  One  thing  which  especially  attracted  my  atten- 
tion at  this  time,  was  the  number  of  ladies  unatten- 
ded by  escorts. 

I asked  my  young  friend  if  this  was  not  unusual. 
He  looked  at  me  in  astonishment. 

“Why  should  they  fear  anything?”  said  he. 

“But,”  I answered,  “are  they  not  in  danger  of  insult 
from  the  gamblers  or  saloon  attendants?” 

In  still  greater  bewilderment,  he  answered,  “there 
has  not  been  a saloon  nor  any  institution  of  that  kind 
within  five  miles  of  this  church  for  over  twenty-five 
years.” 


10 


“Who  closed  them?  That  was  indeed  a wonderful 
work.” 

“The  CHURCH  closed  them.  It  began  a revolution 
in  the  immediate  neighborhood  and  this  extended 
rapidly.” 

“But  how  was  this  accomplished?” 

“The  people  were  won  away  from  the  evil  places 
by  the  greater  attractions  of  this  CHURCH  and 
other  places  of  similar  character  elsewhere  in  the  city. 
Their  patronage  ceased,  and  in  fact,  nearly  all  of 
them  were  closed  even  before  it  became  unlawful  to 
keep  them  open.“ 

“But  what  has  become  of  the  wild  fellows  who 
used  to  visit  them?” 

“They  were  among  the  very  first  to  yield. 
These  made  some  of  our  noblest  men,  and  you  could 
not  now  attract  them  to  such  a place  as  the  saloon 
used  to  be.  There  was  a jubilee  when  the  last  resort 
in  the  heart  of  the  city  was  closed.  The  young  man 
laughed  again  and  apologized  by  saying  that  he  so 
seldom  had  heard  the  word  I had  just  mentioned  that 
he  was  not  sure  but  that  he  might  entirely  have 
forgotten  it,  but  for  a curious  blunder  of  the  author 
of  the  book  on  the  Ruined  TEMPLES,  which  he  had 
referred  to  before.  This  author  confounded  the  old 


11 


word  ‘saloon’  with  the  word  Salon , which  was  used 
considerably  at  that  time  in  some  of  the  entertain- 
ments at  the  Church  of  the  Redeemer." 

“You  must  certainly  read  this  book,”  said  the 
young  man.  “It  is  out  of  print,  but  there  is  a 
copy  in  the  library  in  the  church,  and  it  will  pay  you 
sometime  to  stop  and  examine  it  in  order  that  you 
may  see  what  fear  our  fore-fathers  had  to  conquer.” 

Just  at  this  moment  I saw  a newsboy  passing, 
with  his  bundle  of  papers  under  his  arm,  and  crying 
the  sale  of  “Redeeming  News.”  I bought  a copy  of 
the  paper.  1 saw  upon  the  front  of  it  a splendid  pic- 
ture of  this  wonderful  memorial  institution,  but  I saw 
something  also  which  startled  me,  so  that  I was  not 
able  to  speak  in  answer  to  the  question  of  the  young 
man  who  stood  beside  me.  Upon  the  head-lines 
were  these  words:  “ December  2\th,  1949.” 

While  I was  endeavoring  to  gather  my  thought 
and  bring  myself  into  some  recognition  of  the  time 
and  the  place,  and  was  trying  tu  recall  what  had  hap- 
pened since  December  22,  1892,  the  date  I last 
remembered,  I heard  strange  sounds  from  across  the 
street.  The  young  man  touched  my  arm  and  said, 
“Come,  here  is  a Romany  boy,  let  us  go  and  hear  him 
play.“ 

Dazed  with  the  intense  excitement  of  conflicting 


12 


emotions,  I crossed  the  broad  street  and  the  wide 
esplanade,  which  surrounded  the  building,  and  there, 
near  one  ot  the  great  pillars,  was  a lad  of  about 
eighteen  years.  He  was  bareheaded  and  his  long, 
raven  locks  curled  luxuriantly  over  his  shoulders. 
His  white  face  was  turned  to  the  sky,  and  I saw  that 
the  orbs  were  sightless.  He  played  an  instrument, 
the  like  of  which  I had  never  seen.  It  was  a sort  of 
portable  pipe  organ,  capable  no  doubt  in  skilled 
hands,  of  marvelous  effects  of  music;  but  here  was 
more  than  skill.  This  was  a born  musician,  whose 
very  soul  was  pouring  itself  forth.  One  wise  in  such 
matters  would  know  from  his  manner  of  playing  that 
he  was  a “Tsigane,”  who  had  learned  in  that  wild, 
weird  school  of  nature-students,  a method,  which 
those  who  have  been  trained  in  the  mere  technicalities 
of  music,  can  never  acquire.  His  was  evidently  not 
mere  learning.  It  was  a deeper  knowledge,  a true 
spiritual  hearing  and  revealing  of  the  music  of  the 
invisible  world.  His  soul  was  engrossed  in  the  rhap- 
sody, so  that  he  seemed  to  know  not  where  he  was  or 
what  he  was  doing.  The  coins  dropped  in  the  little 
box,  at  the  end  of  his  strange  instrument,  but  he 
heeded  them  not.  It  was  the  “Czarda”  which  filled 
his  soul,  and  only  that. 

The  crowd  which  had  gathered  close  about  him 
now  parted,  as  an  elderly  man  with  long,  white  hair, 


/library 

OF  THE 

of  Illinois 


13 


made  his  way  to  the  side  of  the  blind  boy  and 
listened  for  a few  moments  to  this  strange,  wild 
improvisation. 

His  face  was  beautiful  in  its  outward  form  and 
bore  a look  of  benevolence  apparently  characteristic 
of  it,  but  a more  glorious  expression  irradiated  it  as 
he  stood  there,  as  if  from  an  internal  illumination. 

Like  the  blind  boy  he,  too,  seemed  transported  in 
spirit  to  some  far  away  realm  where  only  harmonious 
vibrations  were  realized.  The  world  of  mortal  sense 
was  lost  to  him,  as  well,  and  he  met  in  Paradise,  the 
one  whom  he  had  outwardly  seen  but  a moment  be- 
fore at  the  church  portal. 

Suddenly  he  became  conscious  of  his  position,  for 
the  throng  parted  on  either  side  of  him,  and  left  him 
fully  revealed  in  the  bright  radiance  which  streamed 
through  the  window,  before  which  stood  the  statue  of 
the  smiling  Christ. 

The  glory  which  shone  out  of  that  matchless  coun- 
tenance was  burning  in  this  face  as  well.  Impulsively 
brushing  the  white  locks  from  before  his  eyes,  and 
stepping  up  to  the  lad,  he  said,  “Come  with  me  and 
hear  me  play.” 

As  he  led  him  away  through  the  portal,  I asked  my 
young  acquaintance,  “who  is  that?” 


14 


“Do  you  not  know  John  Woodbridge?”  he  replied. 

“No,  who  is  he?” 

“It  is  strange,  I cannot  understand  it,”  he  said.  “I 
did  not  know  there  was  any  one,  in  all  the  world, 
who  did  not  know  of  John  Woodbridge,  the  great  or- 
ganist of  The  Church  of  the  Redeemer.  But 
come,  shall  we  not  go  in  and  I will  tell  you  about 
him.” 

We  entered  the  corridor,  with  the  great  throng  of 
people  which  was  pouring  into  the  building  and  yet 
so  quiet,  so  orderly  were  they,  that  there  was  no  dis- 
turbance or  the  least  excitement.  It  seemed  as  if 
some  mysterious  influence  came  upon  all  as  soon  as 
they  entered.  They  passed  within  reverently,  as  if 
going  to  a place  which  they  loved,  and  which  they 
were  accustomed  to  often  visit. 

We  were  soon  in  the  auditorium.  Surely  this  was 
a new  and  strange  world  to  me.  Here  was  a vast 
ampitheatre  of  such  size,  as  had  never  been  dreamed 
of  before  that  day  of  marvels,  when  the  great  “Manu- 
facturers’ building”  was  planned.  Not  only  was  this 
so  large  that  any  other  hall  was  a mere  dwarf 
in  comparison,  but  here  was  also  a brilliancy  of  illu- 
mination never  witnessed  Gallery  rose  above  gallery, 
stretching  away  in  misty  distances,  and  yet  every 
part  was  as  light  as  if  the  bright  sun-light  streamed 


15 


in  from  above,  while  no  lamps  of  any  kind  were 
in  sight. 

If  the  irradiance  of  the  exterior  was  so  surpassing 
that  it  was  beyond  my  knowledge,  how  much  more 
this  resplendent  glory. 

When  seated  I looked  about  me.  How  many  thou- 
sands could  such  a building  contain?  What  human 
voice  could  ever  fill  such  an  auditorium?  What 
music  might  ever  be  rendered  there,  by  any  in- 
strument or  assemblage  of  instruments  however  grand 
that  would  not  be  lost? 

My  young  friend  seeing  the  look  of  astonishment 
upon  my  face  said,  ‘‘I  see  that  you  do  not  compre- 
hend this  place  at  all.  You  cannot  understand  how 
anything  can  be  heard  in  this  vast  room.” 

“Yes,“  I replied,  “that  thought  was  in  my  mind  as 
you  spoke.” 

“And  yet  so  cunningly  is  this  room  designed  that 
there  is  not  a seat  in  this  auditorium,  but  the  faintest 
whisper  from  yonder  platform,  can  reach  it,  and  as  for 
the  effect  of  music,  it  is  as  perfect  as  if  it  had  been 
planned  for  no  other  purpose.  But  soon  you  shall 
judge  for  yourself,  and  you  will  hear  what  all  the  world 
has  been  awaiting  in  great  expectancy.  It  is  many 
years  since  John  Woodbridge  has  used  the  great  organ 
and  the  announcement  that  he  will  perform  tonight 


10 


has  brought  thousands  from  afar,  even  some  from  the 
remotest  parts  of  the  world.  I have  often  heard 
about  the  last  time  that  he  played  in  this  CHURCH. 
It  was  fourteen  years  ago  to  night,  and  it  was  said 
by  those  who  were  here  that  they  had  never  listened 
to  such  music,  neither  had  they  ever  dreamed  of  such 
possibilities  of  music,  as  came  out  of  the  grand  organ 
under  his  touch.  I have  also  heard  how  grievously 
were  all  shocked,  when  they  learned  the  next  day, 
that  even  while  he  was  enchanting  his  listeners  here, 
little  Charlie,  his  only  child,  the  boy  upon  whom  the 
affections  of  his  heart  had  centered,  was  stolen  away 
from  his  home.  John  Wood  bridge  has  passed  the 
years  in  sorrow  and  in  seeking,  but  he  has  sought 
in  vain  through  all  the  world.  At  last,  unasked,  he 
has  again  offered  his  services  to  play  this  night,  and 
you  are  fortunate,  indeed,  that  you  chance  to  be  here.” 

“Tell  me  about  this  great  instrument,”  and  I turned 
my  face  toward  one  side  of  this  spacious  hall,  where 
there  arose  from  the  lowest  floor  to  the  highest  ceil- 
ing, the  most  majestic  piece  of  organ  architecture. 
No  glowing,  tawdry  colors  were  anywhere  put 
upon  it  to  hurt  and  offend  the  eye,  but  soft  shades 
like  those  in  old  tapestry,  and  glows,  like  phosphores- 
cent lights  in  the  forest,  everywhere  relumned  it. 


“Tell  me  about  the  organ; 


17 


“Surely”  he  replied,  “you  have  heard  all  about  this, 
every  one  knows  of  it.” 

“No;  how  could  I hear  of  it,  when  I did  not  even 
know  of  the  building.” 

“Your  statements  fill  me  with  more  and  more  won- 
der. There  is  no  time  to  question  you  now,  but  I 
will  tell  you  of  the  organ.  Who  built  it?  no  one 
knows,  or  at  least  those  who  know  will  never  tell  the 
secret.  It  was  a princely  offering,  like  many  another 
which  was  given  this  enterprise,  and  like  others 
of  these  rich  gifts  which  adorn  this  place,  was  not  in- 
tended for  selfish  gratification  through  the  public 
announcement  of  its  donor.  It  is  a magnificent  organ 
as  you  can  easily  judge  from  its  outer  appearance 
but  it  is  more  than  that,  it  is  a miracle  of  power. 
There  are  other  organs  in  the  world  that  are  grand 
but  this  surpasses  them  all.  Strangely  enough  the 
secret  of  the  mechanism  of  this  instrument  has  never 
been  learned.  Engineers  and  students  from  all  the 
world  have  come  here,  seeking  to  learn  its  mystery 
but  they  have  never  yet  solved  it.  And  there  is 
something  still  more  wonderful,  for  while  it  is  a great 
organ  surpassing  any  other,  under  all  circumstances 
yet  at  times  its  superiorty  is  so  great  that  it  can  not 
in  the  least  be  compared.” 

“At  times!  if  at  times,  why  not  at  all  times?” 


18 


“Oh!”  he  replied,  “you  have  not  learned  the  mystery 
of  which  I shall  speak.  When  this  organ  is  played 
by  one,  who  is  truly  an  artist,  but  who  is  also  spirit- 
ual, true  and  deep  in  his  nature,  by  these  means 
he  seems  to  be  brought  into  some  sort  of  mystic  rela- 
tion with  the  one  who  builded  it.  There  is  then  an 
added  power  and  sweetness,  which  makes  it  as  far 
surpass  itself  under  ordinary  conditions,  as  it  at  all 
times  surpasses  all  others.  John  Woodbridge  is  to- 
day the  only  one  we  know  of  such  ability,  and 
you  need  not  marvel  as  you  see  these  multitudes 
pouring  up  through  the  elevators  into  the  galleries, 
and  streaming  in  through  every  portal.  Even  this 
great  place  will  be  altogether  too  small  for  those  who 
wish  to  hear  him  to  night.” 

There  was  no  sign  or  note  of  alarm,  but  suddenly 
the  vast  audience  was  hushed,  and  then  from  one 
of  the  galleries  came  the  voices  of  a thousand  children 
singing  a sweet  Christmas  melody.  There  was  no  harsh 
accompaniment  of  instruments  to  destroy  the  richness 
and  freshness  of  these  delightful  voices,  which  rang 
out  as  tuneful  as  the  lark’s  voice,  at  early  morn.  Here 
were  a thousand  voices,  blended  into  one;  fresh, 
sweet,  tender  and  clear  When  this  ceased  there  was 
silence  for  a moment,  and  then  from  another 
gallery  came  the  “Song  of  the  Angels  to  the  Shep- 
herds,“ by  a thousand  male  voices.  When  had  I 


19 


heard  music  that  had  such  power  and  pathos? 
When  had  such  masterful  and  soulful  singing  gone 
from  the  earth  to  vibrate  in  unison  with  the  songs  of 
the  upper  air? 

Then  twelve  trumpeters  stepped  to  the  front  of 
the  platform,  the  vast  audience  rose  to  its  feet,  and 
led  by  these,  joined  in  a grand  old  Christmas  Hymn. 

I thought  I had  heard  the  singing  of  multitudes 
before,  when  it  meant  something,  but  surely  never 
before  had  I listened  to  anything  like  this;  for,  to  cult- 
ure and  refinement  was  added  a glorious  potency  of 
sound  which  seemed  impossible  from  human  throats. 

Ere  the  thought  of  this  faded  from  my  mind  there 
appeared  on  the  platform  a man  of  small  stature  and 
very  plain  appearance. 

“Who  is  this?“  I asked. 

“What!u  he  replied,  “have  you  never  heard  of  Evan 
Lloyd?‘ 

“No,  I have  never  heard  of  him.  Who  is  he?“ 

“Well,  I will  not  need  to  tell  you.  He  is  about 
to  speak,  and  you  will  then  know  all  about  him.“ 

He  stood  before  the  hushed  audience  and  told  over 
that  old,  old  story  of  the  birth  of  the  Redeemer. 
I had  heard  it  again  and  again,  until  it  seemed  as  if  it 
were  impossible  that  anything  new  should  ever  be 


20 


said  upon  the  subject,  but  behold  now,  it  was  all  new 
it  was  all  fresh.  It  was  the  same  story  but  there 
was  an  added  meaning  to  every  declaration. 

I did  not  marvel,  that,  as  I looked  about  me,  I saw 
the  misty  eyes  of  those  who  were  nearest  me,  for  I 
felt  the  dew  spring  to  my  own  eye-lids,  and  my  heart 
was  strangely  moved. 

Looking  down  the  aisle,  in  one  of  the  seats  before 
me,  I saw  the  blind  boy,  the  recent  protege  of  the 
great  organist.  He  was  leaning  upon  his  instrument, 
bending  forward  to  catch  every  word  which  came 
from  the  lips  of  the  speaker.  I read  in  his  face 
that  he  seemed  to  be  listening  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  to  the  story  of  the  Redeemer.  The  longing 
look  upon  that  face  portended  he  too  wished  that 
help,  which  Evan  Lloyd  promised  to  those  who 
would  take  upon  themselves  this  life.  The  tears 
poured  from  his  sightless  orbs,  his  hands  were 
clasped  convulsively,  and  I saw  that  he  could  not 
restrain  his  sobs.  In  a few  moments  his  face  glowed 
with  a bright  light  and  I then  knew  that  the  wan- 
dering youth  had  found  a resting  place  in  the  know- 
ledge of  the  Christ,  and  that  he  had  taken  him  for 
Master. . 

The  speaker  ceased.  There  was  a hush  in  the  great 
hall,  a quietness  such  as  1 had  never  felt  before,  then 


21 


out  of  that  stillness  stole  a sound,  so  faint,  so  far 
away- — it  might  be  the  breathing  of  flutes  upon  the 
hilltops — it  swelled  and  grew,  and  gained  in  power 
until  there  was  such  strength  and  sublimity  of  tones 
that  it  seemed  that  this  was  not  mere  mechanism, 
but  the  canorous  unisonance  of  more  than  finite,  liv- 
ing creatures.  It  was  indeed  as  if  the  world  were  an 
organ  and  the  music  was  filling  the  universe. 

Truly  here  was  a great  organ,  and  of  marvelous 
mechanism,  but  a more  marvelous  player.  Motet 
and  canon,  quatrain,  cantata,  symphony  and  oratorio 
were  developed  in  harmonious  succession.  The  music 
died  away  until  it  was  so  still  that  you  could 
hear  only  the  far  away  voice  of  a Nightingale, 
that  sweet  and  sad  refrain,  that  stole  somewhere  out 
of  the  great  instrument;  then  at  last  out  of  the  com- 
parative silence  burst  forth  a rhapsody.  I had 
heard  it  before.  Yes,  I recalled  that  it  was  the 
Czarda  which  the  blind  boy  played  that  evening 
It  grew  in  power  and  motive,  and  sank  away  again 
into  silence,  or  nearly  so,  and  then  out  of  this  silence 
came  the  note,  clear  and  ringing,  of  a silver  bell.  And 
now  over  and  above  everything,  I heard  that  old 
sweet  song  ol  the  Holy  Night,  played  in  wondrous 
chimes  of  consonance,  while  underneath,  and  weaving 
in  and  out  was  the  Czarda. 

I had  forgotten  my  surroundings,  or  rather 


22 


was  transported  on  the  wings  of  the  moving  wind 
into  the  depths  of  the  earth  where  I heard  the  rhyth- 
mic vibration  of  the  elements.  I felt  the  throb  of  the 
forces  which  laid  the  foundations  of  the  world. 
Thence  I was  borne,  until,  far  from  the  world,  I 
rested  and  listened,  and  caught  the  concordant  har- 
mony of  the  universe.  My  heart  was  stilled  into 
wondrous  peace,  when  above  all,  I heard  again  the 
voices;  this  time  of  the  celestials  singing  the  grand  old 
song,  Peace  on  Earth  and  Good  Will  Among  Earth  s 
Inhabitants.  Suddenly,  I was  again  in  the  CHURCH 
of  the  Redeemer,  with  my  young  companion  at 
my  side. 

As  I sat  there,  the  tears  streaming  from  my 
eyes,  I felt  that  here  was  a spiritual  force  I had 
never  before  known  in  music.  There  were  sermons, 
yes  great  volumes  of  sermons  in  those  tones,  and  I 
felt  myself  lifted  above  the  world,  and  all  of  its 
temptations.  I had  come  to  know  something  of  the 
deeper  mystery  of  the  great  organ. 

The  little  preacher,  with  the  motion  of  his  hand 
called  us  to  our  feet  and  dismissed  us  with  the  ben- 
ediction and  the  festival  was  over. 

The  audience  went  out  of  the  house  in  silence.  No 
one  stopped  to  even  exchange  a word  with  his  neigh- 
bor, for  all  felt  the  beautiful  solemnity  of  the  hour,  and 


23 


that  they  had  been  given  a revelation  such  as  had 
never  come  to  them  before. 

* * ■*  * 

“Come,”  said  the  young  man,  “perhaps  you  would 
like  to  know  more  of  this  church.  I will  show  it 
to  you.“ 

We  passed  through  the  halls,  and  then  from  one 
floor  to  another  by  means  of  elevators.  I soon  saw 
that  this  was  more  than  a place  for  people  to  meet  to 
worship  one  day  in  the  week,  and  a far  different  in- 
stitution from  anything  of  which  I had  knowledge. 
I saw  that  the  wants  of  the  natural  as  well  as  of  the 
spiritual  man  were  provided  for,  and  that  every  help- 
ful plan  and  thought  for  the  betterment  of  body, 
mind  and  spirit  were  here  embodied.  The  sublime 
idea  of  a church  that  reached  down  to  the  lowest  and 
yet  helped  the  most  advanced  in  intellectual  and 
spiritual  life,  was  fully  realized. 

“Now  shall  we  not  hasten,“  I suggested,  “will  they 
not  soon  close  the  building.“ 

He  laughed  as  he  said.  “Close  the  building?  Why 
this  church  is  open  every  hour  of  the  day  and  night 
and  every  day  in  the  week;  it  stands  to  help  all  who 
need,  and  why  should  it  ever  be  closed?  No,  the 
great  auditorium  is  closed  until  to-morrow  morning 


24 


but  there  are  hundreds  of  rooms  that  are  always 
in  use.  No  request  is  ever  refused,  and  helpers 
are  always  here  to  give  their  assistance/4  Then  he 
showed  me  the  restaurant  standing  open,  where  those 
were  fed  without  price  who  came  to  ask  for  food;  and 
the  sleeping  rooms  where  they  weie  lodged  without 
cost,  for  mere  asking. 

44But  are  you  never  imposed  upon?44 

“No,  that  is  impossible.  At  first  it  seemed  as  if 
this  might  be  true,  but  it  was  soon  learned  that  no 
one  came  but  the  distressed,  and  no  questions  are  now 
asked  except  to  know  if  there  is  a need,  for  one  of  our 
first  and  greatest  lessons  was  that  men  could  be 
taught  to  trust  each  other.  This  is  what  the  church 
is  for,44  he  said,  “that  is  the  very  thought  of  it  in  every 
way,  that  it  shall  help  every  one  who  is  in  want.44 

As  we  passed  hastily  along  I was  shown  a large 
portion  of  the  building  which  was  set  apart  for  offices 
and  other  commercial  purposes.  These  I was  told 
were  rented,  and  the  amount  realized  seemed  to  my 
mind  an  extravagantly  large  sum. 

“I  suppose.14  said  I,  “that  it  is  by  this  means  The 
Church  is  supported44 

“Far  from  it.  Every  dollar  of  that  money  is  sacred- 
ly set  apart  to  be  used  in  promoting  like  enterprises 
elsewhere  in  the  world.44 


25 


“But  how  are  the  expenses  of  This  Church  pro- 
vided.“ 

“By  voluntary  contributions.  The  money  is  never 
asked  for,  but  it  always  comes  as  it  is  needed.  The 
demands  of  faith  bring  the  supplies.“ 

We  stepped  out  upon  the  balcony  and  looked  over 
the  great  lake  lying  at  our  feet,  for  the  atmosphere 
was  marvelously  clear,  and  here  and  there  I saw 
splendid  pinacles  of  light,  but  none  so  wonderfully 
brilliant  as  this. 

I heard  the  sound  of  voices  beneath  me,  and  looking 
over  the  balcony  saw  a crowd  gathering  at  the  portal 
of  The  Church. 

“Come,“  I suggested,  “let  us  see  what  this  means, “ 
and  we  started  at  once  to  descend  to  the  street. 

Passing  through  the  building  I was  surprised  to 
see  multitudes  of  people  coming  from  various  apart- 
ments, and  asked  my  acquaintance  what  so  many 
people  were  doing  here  at  this  time  of  the  night. 

“These  are  people,“  said  he,  “who  have  spent  the 
evening  in  the  art  rooms,  and  departments  of 
physical  culture.  Others  are  students  of  various 
cults  and  classes,  and  very  many  have  spent  the 
evening  in  the  reading  rooms  and  library .“ 

“Are  not  these  attractions  closed  when  The 


26 


Church  is  open?" 

My  friend  smiled,  as  if  this  was  a strange  remark. 

“You  and  I will  get  to  understand  each  other  after 
a time,"  said  he.  “I  find  it  very  difficult  to  see  the 
meaning  of  this  question." 

“Does  not  The  CHURCH  require  all  other  depart- 
ments to  be  closed  during  its  public  services." 

My  friend  appeared  very  merry  for  a moment  and 
then  replied,  "You  are  of  course  aware  that  all  do  not 
enjoy  or  require  the  same  physical  food.  If  this  is 
true  in  this  lower  realm,  how  much  more  is  it  true  in 
the  nourishment  of  the  higher  life." 

"The  rule  of  our  fellowship  is  that  no  criticism  shall 
be  passed  upon  any  one  for  their  selection  of  recreation 
or  work." 

"Where  are  the  apartments  for  the  lower  classes? 
I note  these  are  all  well  dressed  people  and  appear 
prosperous." 

"Lower  classes!  who  and  what  are  they?" 

I did  not  stop  to  answer  for  we  had  now  reached 
the  landing  and  hurried  out  to  the  street,  to  note 
what  had  occasioned  the  excitement  we  had  noticed 
from  the  balcony.  We  learned  that  there  had  been 
strange  occurrences  in  The  CHURCH  that  night. 
After  the  auditorium  had  been  closed,  and  when  all 


27 


was  dark  within,  watchmen  of  the  building  had  heard 
the  sound  of  the  great  organ.  Soon  they  were  most 
alarmed,  for  as  if  by  some  marvelous  appliance 
hithertoo  unknown,  the  great  organ  had  repeated  the 
entire  repertoire  of  the  evening,  or  else,  the  spirit  of 
John  Woodbridge  had  now  returned  to  repeat  the 
Christmas  Melodies,  given  that  night. 

These  men  were  bold  under  ordinary  circumstances, 
but  here  was  something  so  passing  their  knowledge, 
that  they  did  not  dare  to  enter  The  Church  to  see 
what  the  occasion  of  this  disturbance  might  be.  All 
was  still  within.  Suddenly  John  Woodbridge,  the 
the  very  one  whose  apparition  they  thought  had  been 
playing  upon  this  organ,  came  upon  the  scene.  They 
were  sure  no  one  but  he,  could  have  given  these 
glorious  renditions. 

At  the  close  of  the  Christmas  Festival,  it  appeared, 
that  John  Woodbridge  had  started  for  his  home  at 
Lake  Geneva,  on  the  Elevated  Electric  Road.  Hav- 
ing taken  his  place  upon  the  train  he  soon  fell  into  a 
doze,  when  he  heard  strange  sounds,  as  if  some  one 
were  trying  to  play  upon  the  great  organ  of  The 
Church  of  the  Redeemer.  At  first  this  attempt 
was  uncertain,  but  gradually  the  player  seemed  to 
have  gained  confidence  and  power,  until  at  last  he 
had  rendered  every  selection  which  he  himself  had 


28 


given  that  evening,  including  the  “Czarda”  which  the 
blind  boy  had  played  outside  of  The  CHURCH.  He 
arose  from  his  seat,  and  getting  off  at  the  next 
station,  returned  by  the  first  train  to  Chicago. 

Reinforced  with  his  presence,  the  watchmen  dared 
to  enter.  The  great  glow  lights  were  turned  on 
on  and  the  auditorium  was  searched  until  there,  fast 
asleep  under  the  organ  bench,  they  found  the  blind 
boy.  He  had  been  so  overcome  by  his  emotions  that 
he  had  not  heard  the  multitude  passing  out  and  had 
remained  in  solitude  and  silence.  Then  there  came 
over  him  a temptation  to  play  the  organ.  He  stole 
forward  to  it  and  found  the  motor  stop,  and  soon 
the  other  stops,  — for  his  fingers  were  more  than 
eyes — and  began  to  play.  At  first  he  had  no  know- 
ledge, but  he  soon  seemed  to  gain  it,  and  then  he 
poured  forth  his  soul  upon  that  great  instrument,  as 
he  had  upon  the  little  one  in  the  street,  except  that 
he  repeated  that  which  he  had  heard,  and  had  been  to 
him  such  a marvelous  revelation.  He  had  come  into 
a higher  realm  of  music  that  night  than  he  ever  enter- 
ed before  and  had  mastered  the  mystery  of  the  great 
organ  through  the  greater  Christmas  mystery. 

The  watchmen  were  not  sentimentalists,  so  that  it 
was  not  strange  that  they  should  insist  on  taking  the 
boy  to  the  detention  jail,  until  the  question  of  the  re- 
sponsibility of  using  the  organ  was  decided. 


29 


John  Woodbridge  said  that  he  would  go  with  him 
and  I said  I would  go  also,  As  we  were  sitting  in  the 
conveyance  that  was  to  take  us  to  this  place,  the  boy 
told  us  something  of  his  story. 

He  only  knew  he  was  a lonely  lad,  although  he  had 
wandered  over  the  world  with  his  tribe;  that  he  loved 
to  be  out  in  the  open  fields,  and  hear  the  song  of  the 
birds  and  the  sighing  of  the  wind,  and  every  sound 
which  nature  bore  into  hissoul.  He  had  been  taught 
music  by  his  masters,  but  he  had  learned  more  of  it  by 
himself.  He  had  lost  his  sight  in  some  way  in  his 
earlier  years,  but  he  had  not  missed  it  much,  as  he 
had  been  able  to  go  anywhere  his  comrades  had  gone. 

When  in  far  away  Africa  he  had  learned  of  the  great 
organ  and  resolved  that  he  should  hear  it  for  himself 
and  was  nearly  a year  in  making  his  way  to  Chicago. 
At  last  he  had  heard  it  and  had  even  played  upon 
it  and  now  his  soul  was  supremely  satisfied. 

When  we  reached  the  jail,  I was  astonished,  for  I 
could  not  remember  having  before  seen  so  decent  and 
clean  a place  as  this,  used  for  such  a purpose. 

When  we  came  to  the  cell  to  which  the  lad  was  as- 
signed, he  was  overcome  by  the  emotions  through 
which  he  had  passed,  and  fell  almost  unconsious  into 
the  arms  of  John  Woodbridge,  who  removed  his  cloth- 


30 


ing  carefully  and  tenderly  as  if  he  were  his  own 
little  boy.  Suddenly  he  started  back  with  an  excla- 
mation of  glad  astonishment,  and  then  falling  on  his 
knees,  poured  out  his  soul  in  thankful  prayer  to 
Almighty  God. 

Yes,  it  was  his  own  Charlie,  the  boy  of  his  heart; 
the  one  whom  he  had  lost  and  who  had  been  sent 
back  to  him  so  strangely  this  night.  Now  he  knew 
why  his  heart  warmed  so  to  the  lad,  as  he  played 
outside  The  CHURCH,  and  he  knew  also  why  he  had 
asked  him  to  come  within  The  Church  that  he 
might  hear  him  play.  He  knew  also  why  he  had 
so  surpassed  himself  that  night,  and  also  why  the 
theme  of  the  Holy  Night  with  the  accompanying 
Czarda,  had  broken  in  upon  his  own  soul  as  a breath 
from  heaven.  He  and  his  own  twice-born  child,  had 
together  tasted  the  sweet  waters,  and  heard  the  wild 
melodies  of  uttermost  land,  but  here,  reunited  body 
and  spirit,  they  mingled  their  blissful  tears,  as  we 
stood,  joyful  witnesses  of  the  unfolding  of  this  sacred 
mystery. 

Now  we  knew  why  the  boy  who  had  never  learned 
music,  as  a science,  had  been  able  to  do  that  which 
no  one  but  the  great  organist  had  ever  accomplished. 
Surely  John  Woodbridge  had  recovered  his  own  loved 
boy,  and  THE  Church  OF  THE  Redeemer  could 


31 


have  one  to  succeed  him  in  his  office,  who 
possessed  his  own  mysterious  nature,  and  who  was 
not  only  his  child  in  his  natural  generation,  but  was 
more  than  ever,  his  child  by  spiritual  inheritance. 

My  eyes  filled  with  blinding  tears  as  I stood  looking 
upon  this  sweet  and  touching  scene. 

•x-  * -x-  -x-  -x- 


Suddenly  the  room  in  the  jail  had  vanished,  the 
warden,  the  organist,  and  the  blind  lad;  all  had  gone 
into  dreamland. 


* * * 

I heard  rhythmic  throbs,  but  these  were  strange 
sounds  to  me,  and  unremembered.  I wiped  the  mist 
from  my  eyes  that  had  gathered  as  I heard  the  burst 
of  joy  which  came  from  John  Woodbridge,  and  re- 
placing my  eye-glasses,  looked  about  me. 

■x-  -x-  ■x-  -x-  -x- 


Into  what  new  world  had  I been  so  suddenly  brought 
Slowly  I came  to  earth  consciousness,  and  again  re- 
membered myj  surroundings.  The  brakeman  of  the 
train  upon  which  I was  riding  cried  out  the  name  of 


32 


the  station,  as  the  train  came  to  a halt,  and  I re- 
called that  he  was  announcing  this  same  stopping 
place  as  I left  my  body,  to  speed  away  into  the 
Eastern  realms  of  God’s  universe,  where  the  events 
that  will  come  to  pass  to-morrow  are  already  written 
in  Celestial  records. 


ig§§ 


TW?  yO 


